


Spectacles and lost shovels

by Petersolacenovak



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Bad Jokes, Bad Parenting, Dick Jokes, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jean Kirstein Being An Asshole, M/M, Minor Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover, Natural Disasters, POV Jean Kirstein, Social Anxiety, Swearing, so many dick jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petersolacenovak/pseuds/Petersolacenovak
Summary: Breaking news: Rich boy Jean Kirstein moves to the Midwest and makes enemies with an entire town.In Malibu, Jean had it all; money, surfing, being the brother of a famous movie star-in Muckville (His mother’s hometown) he’s a snobby jerk that everyone hates. So why is Marco Bott so willing to become friends?
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Spectacles and lost shovels

**Author's Note:**

> Attack on Titan right? Crazy stuff

He let his hands crumple up the notes on his desk and then tossed them into the wastebasket beside him. For the past two weeks, the last remaining days of summer vacation, he had trapped himself in his room and attempted to write out the jumble of mashed up emotions swarming his brain. He didn’t know how it started, one day his therapist just asked about what he liked to do in his free time and he said back, ‘writing’ prompting the woman to recommend he started using his hobby as an outlet. In fact, after a few days, she told him his new assignment was to write a short story by the end of the year. 

A short story that would make him face his emotions and write what he’d never been able to; an ending. For the stories he wrote, whether it be for a class or just in his own free time, he never felt able to come up with an ending good enough for the whole story. He was awful at wrapping things up. Most of the time he couldn’t help but come up with an ending that was more bitter than sweet. And he hated unhappy endings. 

He never wanted to finish his own stories with tears or bloodshed. 

So, he left them as what they were and then ignored the deep ache they’d create in his chest from disappointment in his own abilities. 

He sighed. The clock ticked away on the wall behind him, ringing in his head. His hands went up to block the noise out, when a vibration went over the desk, startling him out of his self loathing party. 

His phone was notifying him with a new message and obstructed the background photo he had set as him and his brother. His brother was the most important person in his life-and to the lives of millions of teenage girls. Jean wasn’t jealous of his brother’s standing as a famous actor, but he was annoyed with the amount of girls in his last school that only talked about him because they thought he could introduce them to his older brother. 

But that wasn’t something to dwell on, he had a text after all and he hadn’t gotten one of those since last week. His mother had been worrying then.

Now, however, it seemed he had a different issue with his parents;

_ 11:32 am  _

_ From; Ma  _

_ Jean, darling, I need you to visit your new school. You only have four days until you have to go and we still haven’t even picked up your schedule. Please meet me and your father there at 12, we’ll be waiting. I love you!  _

He let out a long groan and smacked his head back down on the desk. It landed with a thud and he moaned louder when he realized acting melodramatic would only make him more annoyed. 

A new school, a new home, a new town, and a writing assignment that he’d have to finish by the end of the year? He couldn’t even imagine anything worse being stacked on top. It wasn’t even the first day of classes, but he was expected to show up at school with a well rested smile? He wasn’t even dressed, nor had he taken a shower yet that day. There was no way he’d have time to take one if he had to be there by 12. 

He decided to just screw it and throw a long sleeved windbreaker over his head to hide a stain on his tank top and then yanked on a pair of flip flops he’d been wearing for over two years. The bottoms were caked in old sand and flecks of shell, the color a fading yellow and orange. 

He ran two fingers through his hair and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment before exiting his room. The walk to his car was a short one, but from sitting in his desk chair all day and night, it left his legs thinking it was a mile journey to the jeep parked in the driveway. 

He swung the door shut behind him, phone, keys, wallet, and sunglasses stuffed into his pants pockets. It was only when he sat in his car, starting the ignition, did he realize how fucking hot it was. 

He ripped his windbreaker off and threw it into the backseat, groaning and glaring at the large box of beach supplies in the drivers seat beside him. He hadn’t realized he’d left it all there, but at the sight of it, his chest felt tight with homesickness. 

He flicked at the seashells littering his dashboard and hit the gas, backing out and then speeding down along the street with a vengeance for the hot sun above. He was used to it, of course, but from sitting inside for three days straight, he was left melting into the leather of his seats. 

The town he had to drive through didn’t do anything for his annoyance levels (Which were threatening to raise to peak capacity). Small shops littered the streets, people milled about, waving and smiling like midwesterners seemed so eager to do. 

A few tried to throw friendly grins his way when he stopped at a light, but he ducked away and ignored them with a scowl.

He only regretted this action when it came from a blonde kid that he first assumed to be a pretty girl-only for him to realize with a start that it was a boy around his own age. He looked away quickly, a light pink on his ears forming, shoving his sunglasses on, when screaming erupted from the right of his car, where he was stopped next to the sidewalk.

“Hey, asshole! My friend said hello, say it back!” 

Jean frowned and looked at the guy yelling. And then he looked across the street. And then the blonde boy. And then the girl with the two boys. And then back across the street. And then at the still red light. 

“Don’t ignore me, you fucker!” 

And then back at the boy who was yelling.

Oh, he was yelling at him.

Wait-

He was yelling at him?

“Sorry, what?” Jean bit out, not having the luxury of just speeding down the lane, as an old woman was making her way across still. He didn’t notice until a second after he said it, that he had spoken with the rage of a thousand suns. If anything, his ‘sorry’ had sounded more like a ‘fuck off’. So he couldn’t really blame the guy for snapping back.

“Armin just waved and said hello and you fucking looked away like he said nothing, you dicksicle!” He screamed, gaining the attention of a few other people. The girl and blonde boy (Armin?) both looked humiliated.

“I-what the fuck-I didn’t even hear your friend say anything, you freak.” 

Probably not the best way to respond, seeing as Jean was on new terf. He didn’t know the law of the land, he didn’t know the cliques or the groups, who ran what or who he’d end up going to school with. 

And yet, he let his mouth take over, like it always did.

“Also, it’s dangerous as shit for you to distract someone who’s driving, idiot. Maybe next time your friend should just go about his day.” 

“He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Eren, stop-“ The blonde tugged on his friend’s arm and the girl pushed him with a very firm glare thst was not only directed at her friend but also Jean.

“Oi, Jeager! Stop causing a ruckus!” 

Jean let his eyes travel over towards one of the shops that was squished in between the rows of buildings. A store with old antique furniture and nick nacks in the window had the front door wide open. A bald man with a handlebar mustache stood in the doorway, shaking a broom at the group of teens like he was herding away stray cats. He was the epitome of whatever the blasted Midwest had to offer and Jean hit the gas, fear suddenly taking over when he made eye contact.

It wasn’t a cowardly retreat, it wasn’t even a retreat at all, but the way his heart beat loudly in his chest, made him realize that his best course of action would be to leave the whole exchange at that. 

Sweat trickled down his back from he sun and the tension created from the conversation, leaving a moist stain on the back of his shirt. He was going to have to tour his new school while drenched and in a frustrated anger from the annoying teenagers he had just had the displeasure of meeting. 

He put both hands on the wheel, glancing in his rear view mirror to see if they were behind him and relaxed into a looser posture at the sight of the kids running down the street, the opposite way.

His turns became more sharp as he drove on, avoiding eye contact with the people he passed, hoping to avoid another screaming match with a stranger. 

It was hard though, having to look at the road and also not make eye contact with the weirdly cheerful townspeople. They were like magnets for his eyeballs, tugging at the corneas and leaving his eyes dry and red. They were way too friendly for their own good, Jean was new in town too and yet they acted like he was a regular old neighbor. 

He hated that.

When he got to his new school, he held back a gasp. 

It was so...small. 

Not that Jean wanted it to be huge-a small school meant less running frantically down the halls to get to biology on time-but he had expected something more from his parents.

They sent him to one of the most expensive private schools in all of Malibu just a year prior-but now he was here? 

What had he done to deserve this? 

Been a little shit? Maybe. 

Not show up to his dad’s 50th birthday party? Well, no, he spent that day in his brother’s basement.

But still. He was expected to attend a school that had the words ‘cum nuggets’ graffitied onto the sign? He didn’t know what was worse-the fact that someone had written it or that it was still there and no one had bothered to get rid of it.

He slunk out of his car, sunglasses perched on his nose, flip flops smacking down on the hot parking lot cement. He hissed at a cigarette butt and what looked to be dog shit after nearly stepping in both things. 

The place was a hell hole and he said as much as he stalked up the steps, glancing around every now and again to see if he was going to be mugged.

He wasn’t, but you could never be too sure, even in a small town like the one he was stuck in then.

He pulled out his phone to text his parents he had arrived and then moved to hit the buzzer on the school’s front doors.

“Hello?” An older woman’s voice came through, startling him a tad. He had almost expected there to be no answer at all, going off of the state of everything’s griminess.

“Uh-yeah, I’m supposed to be meeting-“

He was cut off by a loud buzz and the doors opened with a click. 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

The sound of his shoes hitting the tiled floor, when he went inside, echoed down the empty halls. It wasn’t bare like he thought it would’ve been, judging from the outside. Posters hugged the walls, advertising different clubs, a school dance (from last year) and something called ‘wiggle Wednesdays’. 

That last one terrified him. 

Lockers lined the hallways, painted a deep maroon. Scuff marks littered the floors and a garbage can next to a classroom, had a penis drawn on it. Modern art of the current youths. How lovely. 

When he turned to duck into the main office and ask where his parents were-he realized there was no need to do so-instead, both of them walked out to greet him, polite smiles on their faces. 

“ _ This _ is my new school?” He asked as soon as they got within ten feet of him. His hands whipped to the right and he gestured to the building around him. Specifically, at the uncircumsized penis on the trash can.

“Do you like it?” His mother responded easily, the giddy smile on her face making him hesitate.

“I used to go here when I was your age and it was the best time of my life,” She went on, “I made so many friends, I joined the swim team and-oh! Maybe you can continue my legacy in choir, I got to perform a solo at one of our concerts.” 

Jean’s anger degenerated as his mother got more and more enthusiastic. He remembered her telling him on the move to their new town that he was going to attend her old school-but he had assumed it was private like the one his father used to attend. Jean wasn’t a snobby rich kid, in fact he was totally average at his last school. But that place had been a private academy with classrooms the size of this place’s lunchroom.

He got to wear his casual flip flops and swim trunks to class because of how much his father paid them-er-no, not paid. The Kirsteins just had a lot of influence. 

So no, he wasn’t a rich kid in his own eyes-he was just better than the people who lived in the dingy little town they were stuck in.

“I don’t know about choir.” He muttered, crossing his arms and accidentally making eye contact with his father. He couldn’t hide the scowl that crossed his lips and his father lowered his eyes before plastering on a smile that made Jean nauseous. 

“That’s perfectly okay, we have many other programs here.” 

Jean jumped nearly a foot in the air as a statue began speaking behind his parents.

“Are you interested in marine life? We’re having a new course in it this year.” The statue went on, stepping into the light and revealing that in reality-it was an extremely well built man with perfect cheekbones, blonde quaffed hair and sparkling blue eyes that made Jean question a few things for a moment.

“I-uh-“

“Oh, my apologies. My name is Erwin Smith. You can call me Erwin. I’m the principal here.”

Jean blinked.

This guy was a  _ teacher _ ? Not a goddamn model?

“I’m-uh-I’m Jean Kirstein.” 

The man nodded, “I know. Your parents and I just had a long discussion about your transfer. Malibu is an awful long way from here, so we’re going to try our hardest to make you feel comfortable. And, if you’ve decided to change your schedule at all, just let me and the counselor know so we can fix it.” 

Jean gaped, “Uh huh.”

“And I can assure you that we will be discreet as possible with your-ahem-situation.” The man glanced at Jean’s father and the awe suddenly fell away. Of course someone couldn't just have a normal conversation without bringing up the family drama.

“We’re very thankful for that,” His father said, “This school is just what Jean needs right now, I know this will go great.” 

Jean ignored the malicious squint in his father’s eyes.

“Yes of course, I do have to warn you though,” Erwin sighed, crossing his arms loosely, “You folks have only been here for two weeks but this is a small town. You’ve already hit the headlines in our local paper.”

Jean froze.

“Just a little article about how we should all welcome you the best we can, but I’ve gotta say; be careful with what you do around here. People find out everything about everyone in this town.” Erwin finished with a pleased smile.

“Ah, I see,” Jean’s mother chuckled, “So nothing’s changed since I lived here.” 

Jean rolled his eyes. He didn’t understand how his mother could be so blasé over knowing that an entire town of people were already talking behind their backs. One day he was going to end up walking down the street and the next morning it could be the talk of the town that he tripped on a stick. 

He hated Muckville already. Why couldn’t they have moved to Chicago? Or literally any city in the Midwest? If a place’s name was another word for mud or sludge, why on earth would anyone want to move to it? Had his mother become that desperate to return to her roots that she’d gone crazy? 

In Malibu, he’d walk along the beach to school, go to his tutor afterwards and then surf until the sun set and the help would call him back inside. What was he supposed to do here? Play in the mud? Like the pigs he had seen on the drive there from the airport? 

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Jean, your classrooms are all in the east wing, do you want-“

He snatched his schedule out of his father’s hands and then booked it towards where he had been pointing. It wasn’t as if the three adults wanted to explore the school with him, so going off on his own was probably the best option anyways.

He found all of his classes easily; Physics, Algebra, English, Spanish, along with an art class he hadn’t signed up to take but his mother had definitely written him down for. 

Now, all that was left was; the dreaded choir room. He wasn’t a fan of singing, but he did appreciate music. When he was fourteen he started lessons and fell in love with the electric guitar. He still sucked at hitting a note with his voice, but he was a whizz at letting his fingers control the cords. 

Maybe they offered an instrumental course here. 

He trudged down the halls, got lost twice, grimaced at a few stains on the ground, and ducked around a corner when a teacher exited their classroom and headed towards the anatomy classrooms. He wasn’t in the mood to meet the man. 

When he reached the auditorium, he began to realize that he may have been wrong about the entire school being shitty. The outside was coated in sleek wood that Jean believed to not belong in a school like the one he was trapped in.

The doors were big and heavy but when he opened them, he stepped in to find-

Oh no, it was shitty in there too.

A wad of gum threatened to stick to his shoe and he dodged it with a snarl, curling down his lip and moving through the rows of red cushioned pews. They were, he noted, uncomfortably stuffed together, little foot room available below. He didn’t envy the poor suckers who had to squish in just to watch their children deliver crappy renditions of Les Miserables songs. 

“My god.” He murmured to himself absently. 

What a downgrade from the high ceilinged auditorium of his last school. There he had been able to see sparkles from how clean the entire stage was and the seats were all well made and spaced out evenly.

He kicked a foot at one of the chairs and shook his head annoyedly. This place was not going to cut it.

“Hi, are you looking for Mr. Ackerman?”

Jeans jumped for the second time that day and whipped his head around, staring up at the top of the stage wildly.

“Sorry-jeez, I must not have noticed you-have you been there the whole time?” He asked, watching a boy who sat at a piano, legs crossed and fingers balanced on the keys. 

His hair was brown, cut evenly, freckles dotting his skin like rain on the grass. If Jean didn’t know any better he’d assume the boy was from somewhere other than Muckville. He looked too nice for a place like the one they were stuck in-but the odd glimmer in the hazel eyes facing him made re-evaluate that conclusion.

Nonetheless, Jean didn’t believe it would hurt to engage in small talk with the boy. Maybe he could get lucky and have the guy in a few of his classes. He did need some sort of protection after all, someone to take some of the attention off of him and his background. 

“I’ve been here since nine,” The boy smiled politely and Jean had to pause to remember what had already been said, “But no, I wasn’t really paying attention when you first came in. Why? Did you steal something when I wasn’t looking?”

Despite the roar of anger that came over Jean at that accusation-Jean felt his tongue move before he could really think.

“I wouldn’t bother stealing anything from this place. Don’t need ‘stealing from the poor’ on my conscience.” He snarked.

The boy raised an eyebrow and Jean prepared himself for a bark of outrage-

“Okay, so you’re from out of town, good to know.” 

Jean balked, “Maybe I’m not-maybe I’ve just been homeschooled-“

“No, you’re from out of town. You’re too full of yourself to be from around here. Not to mention your shoes…”

Jean looked down at himself and felt a wave of unusual insecurity come over him. His yellow flip flops stared back. Had they always been so dull? They certainly lacked a certain shine that he always looked for.

“No self respecting Muckvillian and would wear those. How do you think you’re gonna manage in the muck?” 

“The muck?”

“We’re called Muckville for a reason-every spring we get a ton of muck in the streets.”

“I won’t be here until Spring.” Jean frowned, wondering what exactly this ‘muck’ consisted of. But he also felt a sense of pride take over him when the boy asked, “So you’re just visiting?” And looked him over like he was a tourist. 

Tourist was better than new resident.

“We’re only going to be here until the end of December, my family and I are going back to Malibu once our new house is built.” Jean said firmly. He couldn’t conceal his joy over that piece of information. After living in the two story house with creaky stairs and a bathtub that wasnt big enough for his tall legs-he was aching to go back home. 

“Malibu? Like the Barbie doll?” 

Jean’s cheeks warmed a light pink and he snapped back at the boy (who now stood at the end of the stage, watching him), “ _ No _ -Malibu as in my  _ home _ ,” He crossed his arms and scoffed, “And it’s not as if you have any ground to stand on-this is place is called Muckville.”

“Well yeah,” The guy shrugged, “But you’re new around here and we don’t get a lot of rich boys from Malibu. So what on earth are you doing here?” 

Jean froze.

What was he doing here? 

What  _ was  _ he doing here? 

Running from a scandal that was just itching to get out? Keeping his parents away from the cameras and journalists who would have a field day if they discovered their true reason for ditching Malibu? Attempting to not murder his father and keeping his mother ignorant and happy? 

Trying to write a goddamn story and not focus on what happened that day he and his father went to the beach and-

“Jean!”

He blinked, turning his head around to see his mother smiling sweetly at him, Mr. Erwin and his father standing behind her in the doorway to the auditorium. 

“Mom.” He mumbled out, glancing back at the boy on stage and noticing a familiar grin being plastered over the guy’s lips. 

His mom moved towards him when he wasn’t paying attention and clasped a hand around his wrist gently, “Honey, we’re going to head home now if you’ve finished looking around. Ready?” 

He nodded back and shook out all of the bad thoughts that had entered his head, “Yeah, let’s go.” He looked back at the boy one more time and waved, “I guess I’ll see you at school, yeah?” 

“Yep.” The guy turned back to sit at the piano, only after shouting a greeting their principal and sending a coy wink to the rest of Kirsteins. 

Jean was dreading the start of this school year. No freckled piano players seemed to help lift his mood enough either. He heaved a sigh and made for his jeep the moment they closed the heavy doors to the school behind them.

“Oh-wait-I forgot my purse, I’ll be right back.” His mother yelped and then dashed back inside. 

He made eye contact with his father.

“Jean-“ his father reached out a hand, something sad being reflected into his son’s eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  


Jean went home on his own. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Muckville
> 
> Honestly I’m a comedy genius for that one


End file.
